Fever at Last Chance
by BlossomAngel2012
Summary: One day, the Mice use their hearts of gold to run the Last Chance Garage when Charley falls ill. What's the worst that could happen?


_*AUTHOR'S NOTE* I was looking through all the existing BMFM fanfics, and it came to my attention that there is another Fanfic with a similar_

_abridgment to this story, so in respect for that co-existing Fanfic, I have not read it to avoid confliction of ideas (although I'm sure it's awesome!)._

_Apologies if there is anything similar or the same, it's just coincidence. Also, I am no mechanic, so if some things don't make sense, bear with me, I_

_did research what I could. Enjoy! Please review and comment. If you have any criticism, please make it constructive!_

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the characters or locations from _The Biker Mice from Mars_, which belong to Rick Ungar. _Chevy_ and _GMC_ are

trademark patents of Chevrolet car manufacturer, and _Dodge Ram_ belongs to Dodge Car manufacturer. All Rights reserved.

"Man, what a drag! Has Fish Face built a new tower yet?" Vinnie complained.

Throttle leaned back against the wall and sighed deeply.

"Vincent, we only trashed that tower two hours ago."

"But I'm so bored!" Vinnie leapt onto his bike and draped himself over the handle bars. "Now that the rush is gone, we've got nothin' to do!" he moaned.

The bros were currently hanging out at the scoreboard at Quigley Field, having ransacked Limburger's tower that very morning and their

post-destruction rush had ceased, leaving them feeling more than a little deflated.

"Hey, why don't we go out for Root beer and grab a couple of dogs? After that, we can take our lil ladies racing along the coastline." Modo

suggested, from his bunk in the corner, where he was polishing up his arm cannon.

"Good idea, big guy." Throttle agreed "There doesn't seem like much more to do, I'm not even tired, and if we sit around here any longer we're

gonna go into Destructo Mode."

"Why don't we stop off at the Last Chance and see if Charley wants to come along?" Vinnie piped in as Throttle grabbed his helmet and strode

over to his bike.

"Hmmm, I don't know if she would, she told us yesterday that she has a lot of work to do, the garage is backlogged, or something."

Throttle jammed on his helmet and snapped his fingers, "That's it! We'll head on over to the Garage and see if Charley-girl needs any help. If

not, we can just go for dogs anyway."

"I'm in!" Modo agreed, striding over to Lil' Hoss, and all three mice kick- started their bikes.

"Then let's Rock…" Throttle started, "AND RIDE!" they chorused.

They arrived at the Last Chance in no time, only to discover, to their surprise, that it was closed up, and as quiet as the grave.

They got off their bikes, put down their helmets, and headed towards the door. When Throttle tried the door, however, he found that it was securely locked.

"Hmm, that's odd, Why would Charley Girl have the Garage all locked up in the middle of the day? And when she has so much to work on, too?"

"Maybe she finished it all? Shut up the shop for some down time?" Modo suggested.

"She couldn't have finished all that work, Bro; she had three trucks due to be collected today by 6pm. I swear I remember her saying that!" Vinnie scowled.

Throttle nodded, and he couldn't help but notice that even though the white mouse had a tendency to let things go over his head, he took subtle notice of Charley.

"You're right, Vinnie, she did." He replied. "Hmm, I don't like the look of this, Bros."

Throttle walked around to the side of the Garage, where there was a long window looking in on the main quarter, but it was a high window,

forcing Throttle to climb on top of the trash cans in order to look in. From what he could make out through the grimy glass, the Garage was

desolate. The three trucks were parked up, two were side by side and one in front, with tools littering the floor, and from what Throttle could

make out, there was no movement at all. Charley was nowhere to be seen. This gave Throttle a really bad feeling. Just because they had

sorted Limburger out, didn't mean someone else wasn't causing trouble, and they'd left Charley alone and open to attack! Throttle wasn't

taking any chances.

"Kick the door in, Vinnie!" Throttle shouted back round to the front of the Garage as he jumped down from the cans. Vinnie didn't need tellin

g twice. With one swift boot, the lock came apart and the door flew open. All three of them rushed inside, taking a second to fully check and

make sure that Charley wasn't there. It was apparent that no-one was in the Garage, and Vinnie didn't stop to linger.

With Throttle and Modo on his tail, he shot through the door to the stairwell that led to Charley's apartment upstairs, all the while, his heart

was pounding with fear, and it was not a familiar emotion to him. Vinnie was the kind of guy who could take down an entire Plutarkian Armada

without so much as a worry, but when it came to potentially losing someone he cared for, the fear finally found him. It had been that way since

Harley was taken, and he'd be damned if he'd let anything like that happen to Charley too. After making a quick sweep of the lounge, the

kitchen and the bathroom, it only left one place; as all three biker mice burst through her bedroom door, they were greeted with a very groggy

and very pale Charley, sitting up in bed and looking as though she had been knocked unconscious with a sledgehammer.

"Wh-what's going on? Guys?" she croaked weakly in surprise, "What are _you_ doing here?" "We were worried about you, Charley." Vinnie

injected hurriedly, "The Garage is all shut up and we couldn't see you inside anywhere. We thought maybe you were in trouble."

Charley slowly sat up groaning and held her head in her hands before mumbling,

"Why? What time is it?"

Modo glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand, "It's almost one o'clock, Charley-Ma'Am." He answered.

"ONE?! In the afternoon?" she yelled, jerking her head up so quick, she saw stars. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the room spinning,

and Throttle nodded.

"That's right. You know, babe, you don't look too good…"

Charley opened her eyes and slowly swung her legs out of bed. She had been wearing her pajama shorts, and the chill of the room hit her

legs as they left the warm tangle of blankets and sent chills spreading through her body.

"I'm…fine, just a little, uh, dizzy."

Vinnie walked over and crouched down to put himself at eye level with her.

"Sweetheart, if you're sick, then you really should stay in bed."

Charley inwardly braced herself for some smart-ass remark about her bed or joining her, but when he didn't, she looked up into his face.

His brow was crinkled softly in a small frown, concern shining in his eyes. She had no idea why, but she suddenly felt a little teary. She could

handle that kind of concern from Throttle and Modo, but not him. Succumbing to the headache pounding in her skull, she closed her eyes again

and sighed, "Vinnie, I have so much work to do on those trucks. The Chevy is getting picked up at 4, and the other two are due at 6. I

shouldn't have spent all morning in bed, or they could have been almost finished by now." She stood up and immediately regretted it.

Her legs buckled, and Vinnie, who was the closest, caught her before she fell. His arms went around her the moment he saw her legs fold, and

he brought her up against him as she steadied herself by holding onto his bandoliers. She blushed furiously as she met his gaze.

"Oops. Clumsy me." She murmured gently, as Throttle and Modo raised their eyebrows and looked away. Vinnie stroked a soothing hand along

her shoulders.

"Come on, Sweetheart, back to bed for you." He helped her climb back in, where she looked smaller than usual, lost among huge pillows and

blankets, wearing an old oversized t-shirt from some rock concert, and tucked the duvet

gently under her chin.

Throttle stepped forward, reminding her that he and Modo were still there, and placed his hand on her forehead.

"Hmm, your temperature seems real high, Charley-girl. I think you have a fever. You're gonna have to rest up, Babe." Charley sighed heavily, "Throttle, I have way too much to do."

"Hey, don't worry, Charley, we'll take care of the Garage for you."

Charley met his gaze immediately. "What? You guys? Since when have you ran a Garage?" Vinnie laughed out loud

"We're Martians, Sweetheart! If we can figure out a complicated mechanical system like our own, Earth systems should be no sweat! Besides,

all the basic mechanisms are the same."

"I meant the paperwork and customer service!" Charley smiled weakly, "Look guys, I appreciate what you're doing, but I've already been

resting up all morning. I'll be fine working on a few engines." Throttle shook his head.

"No can do, Charley. You're gonna get yourself rested up, and we'll take care of everything. No arguments. Modo," Throttle turned around to

him, "Run over to the nearest drugstore and pick up some fever medicine." Modo nodded and was out the door before Charley could even take

a breath.

"Vinnie, you and I are gonna go downstairs and take care of those trucks." Vinnie nodded and departed too, giving her a sly wink before he

slipped out. Throttle turned back to her,

"And you, Charley-girl, are gonna stay right here, take your meds and rest up. If there's anything we need to know, we'll ask you. Otherwise,

don't worry, just relax and let us take over." With that, he strode purposefully out of the door.

Charley could only blink in surprise. There was no stopping Throttle once he was in Commander Mode and she knew that her objections would

fall on deaf ears. A little while later, Modo came in with her fever medicine, fussing and caring, just like he always did. After he'd gotten her

settled and made sure she was comfortable, he left to help Throttle and Vinnie downstairs. Charley lay back against her pillows and felt herself

drifting into a drug-laden sleep. Her last coherent thoughts were of her precious Garage, her Last Chance, in the hands of three Martian mice.

What could possibly go wrong? She shook her head sleepily. "Good Luck, guys." She whispered. Golly, her life would make one heck of a

book…

Downstairs, Throttle, Modo and Vinnie stared into the faces of each of the three trucks. One was a dark blue Chevy Silverado, facing Modo. Its

problem, according to Charley's written notes, was a busted clutch and it needed a new EGR valve. The next offender was a white GMC, which

needed a whole new gearbox, staring down at Throttle. Leaving Vinnie with an old Dodge Ram pickup, that was glaring down at him like a

cantankerous old man, waiting to have a new carburettor, new brake discs, a new fan belt, _and_ a repaired fuel line.

"So, how do you wanna handle this, bros?" Throttle asked. "Shall we take one each? Or divvy them up in a triage?"

Modo glanced down at Charley's note board. "Well, the Dodge is in need of the most work, but the Chevy is getting picked up first."

Throttle walked over to Charley's tool cabinet and selected a wrench.

"In that case, I suggest that Vinnie and I take the Dodge, and Modo, you work on the Chevy. We'll chip in if you need us, big guy. Then we can

finish up the GMC together once the Chevy is gone." Vinnie and Modo nodded in sync.

"Sounds good to me." Vinnie replied "So what are we waiting for? Lets Rock and…uh, repair?"

"VINNIE!" Modo yelled "Stop juggling those bolts! I need those back in a minute!"

Vinnie dropped the tools he had been juggling in time to the riffs of Alice Wooper, courtesy of Sweet Georgie Brown, while Throttle was under

the chassis, repairing the fuel line.

"I don't have your bolts, big guy, just a hammer, a screwdriver and a wrench!" Modo looked up quickly

"Then where are they?" Modo started circling himself, and the truck, looking around frantically.

"Why? Are they important?" Vinnie asked

"Important?" Modo turned with his eye glowing softly, "Those bolts secure the EGR valve to the intake manifold. Without those, the EGR valve

wouldn't stay in place, and would come loose!" Modo calmed himself down before adding, "So, yeah. They are important, Vinnie!"

Vinnie looked pensive, before snapping his fingers

"Oh yeah! Those bolts! I thought they were spares, so I put them in the bolt drawer in that cabinet." Vinnie pointed to the huge metal locker

by the wall, and the top drawer lay open to divulge thousands of bolts and screws. Modo's eye glow strengthened. Even with Charley's

organized categories of size and purpose groups, it would take ages to find the right bolts among all of those!

"Vincent, I thought I told you to concentrate on your own tasks?" Throttle interjected as Modo stormed over to the bolt drawer and started to search methodically for the correct bolts.

"I am!" he replied. "I just finished replacing the fan belt!"

"Then move on to the next thing on the list. You take the carburettor, I'm almost done down here, and then I'll be able to start on the new brake discs."

Vinnie picked up one of the new discs out of the box and studied it.

"You know, they kinda look like some kooky Frisbee weapon. Do you think one of these could take off the head of a Plutarkian at high speed

velocity?" he asked as he practised a Frisbee motion with the disc. Unfortunately for Vinnie, he didn't have the firm grip he thought he did, and

the disc went flying across the Garage and dissected a rope that was tied to the far wall.

For a brief moment, Vinnie had time to wonder what that rope was for. Then he had his answer. The afore-mentioned rope was securing small

drums of fluids on a high shelving unit, everything from brake and transmission fluids to lubrication oils. When the rope fell away, they began

teetering on the edge of the shelf, which was too narrow to hold them properly, hence the necessity of the roping.

Throttle, unaware of what had just happened, slid out from under the Dodge, got to his feet, and glanced up to be greeted with a selection of

metal drums heading his way…

"VINCENT!"

The rumbling of engines slowly filtered into Charley's hazy consciousness, and it took a moment for her to gather herself before she sat up in

bed. She still felt shivery, and flushed, but the dizziness had died down some, and the room had finally stopped spinning. Charley slowly eased

herself out of bed and onto her feet, pleasantly surprised to find that they worked without crumpling under her. She made her way over to the

window, albeit a little shakily, and glanced out at the street below.

There was Throttle, climbing down from the GMC, where its owner, Mr Cooper, was waiting with a broad smile. He shook hands with Throttle

and, after a brief conversation, climbed into his car and drove off. No sooner had the GMC left, than the Dodge came rolling out, in the capable

hands of Modo. He jumped out and said something to Throttle, who started to laugh. Charley was about to open the window and call the guys

when Ida Smith came around the corner. Ida was one of the neighbourhood's oldest residents, and a long time good customer of Charley's.

That Dodge of hers was always in need of some hefty work, and Charley had told Ida that she'd help her find another pick up, more up to

date, and for a good price, but Ida had promptly told Charley that she had a kinship with the truck, that both of them were old and weathered,

but still stubbornly hanging on, and she refused to buy another while this one still had miles on the clock.

She smiled fondly, and watched as Ida came up to Throttle and Modo. '_She'll have them talking forever!_' Charley thought. She moved away from

the window, got dressed and made her way downstairs. When she opened the garage door, she stopped dead at the sight before her.

There, in all his ego-injured glory, was Vinnie, tied to her lift with his own tail, and gagged with his lucky bandana. As soon as she entered, his

eyes flew to hers, and with relief, started nodding towards her. She walked over and pulled the bandana from his face.

"Charley-Girl!" he said, "Am I glad to see you!" Charley just lifted her eyebrows curiously.

"Dare I ask?" she said, fighting a smile and Vinnie chuckled pitifully.

"Well, Charley-Girl, it turns out that Modo and Throttle just didn't appreciate my help as much as they first thought."

Charley just stared at him, waiting for him to crack.

"Okay, look, I put Modo's bolts in the bolt drawer, in case he lost them, then he got mad and said he'd have to hunt through them all to find

the right ones! I mean, you try to do somebody a favour! Then there were the fluid drums and, well, the less said about that the better.

Then, this really great song came on, and I admittedly did get a little carried away, but Throttle took the oil in the face waaaaaay too

personally! Then, I accidently activated the lift when Modo was standing on it, and it flipped him over. I don't understand why he was so mad,

it's not like he hasn't had worse, and it was an accident!" Vinnie scowled and Charley's lips quirked upwards in a small smile.

"Wow. Is that all (?)" she asked sarcastically.

"No, actually, it isn't. There was the thing with the tires, I mean;_ I_ thought they were all stable! I didn't know they were gonna go rolling

around everywhere like that! Then there was the brake fluid, but that _really_ wasn't my fault! The lid was loose! How was I supposed t

o know?" Charley let loose a husky laugh.

"Oh, Vinnie, you're the one and only, aren't you?" she chuckled.

"That's me, one in a million. Now Sweetheart, I know you've probably been waiting a long time for this bondage stuff, but if you can find it in

your heart to untie me…" he winked at her. Charley laughed harder.

"After the havoc you've wrecked in my Garage, Vincent Van Wham? You can stay here and think about what you've done, young man!" she

laughed before she re-gagged him, leaving the white mouse to muffle and mumble irately, as she walked outside to rescue Throttle and Modo

from Ida's ability to talk for all of Illinois.

After a blessedly brief conversation with Ida, who had insisted Charley get back to bed immediately and rest up properly, Throttle and Modo

began ushering her inside. Throttle broke into fits of laughter at the sight of Vinnie, who was still mumbling wildly through his bandana.

After taunting Vinnie with the scents and sounds of Dogs and Root Beer upstairs, they finally let him loose, and were happily munching away

while Charley sat on the end of the sofa, back in her pajamas and wrapped in her soft, warm quilt.

Observing her friends while they laughed and joked about the day's events, she smiled to herself. They really had saved her skin, there was

no way she would have been able to get up and do all that work herself, not that her pride would admit it, though.

As Throttle and Vinnie laughed and chatted, Modo caught Charley watching them fondly.

"You feelin' okay, Charley Ma'Am?" he asked with a soft smile, which she returned full pelt.

"Of course, I'm feeling almost back to normal." She said as she patted his arm.

"That's good, Charley Ma'Am. I'm glad you're feelin' better, cuz', between you and me, I couldn't do today all over again, not with Vinnie!" and

they both chuckled.

"I just want to say thank you, Modo. To you, and Throttle, even Vinnie! You guys have been a real support today. I really don't think I could

have managed at all without you." Modo smiled even brighter.

"In that case, I propose a toast," he said loudly, grabbing Throttle and Vinnie's attention, "To good friends, may they heal up quick!" he said

with a smile and a wink. Charley spent the rest of the evening being fussed over and laughed with, and once again, she thanked her lucky

stars and sent a silent, grateful blessing, for having the best friends in the entire universe.

~***The End***~


End file.
